


A Form of Art

by chris--daae (AILiSeki)



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Holly Poly, Kissing, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:35:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AILiSeki/pseuds/chris--daae





	A Form of Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alyndra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyndra/gifts).



Raoul kept his opera glasses ready for oncoming solo. It was his favorite part of that particular play and he wanted to see it just as well as he would listen to it.

The young Vicomte watched every performance from box 5, and seemed to never get enough of the plays or of the prima donna, Christine Daaé.

"You don't need to stay hidden in there, you know. There is a great view from here." He whispered, not looking at the empty seat beside his.

No reply came.

Christine stepped on stage. Raoul looked through the opera glasses and saw her, looking stunning as always. Her dark curls were tied in an elaborate style, exposing her shoulders and jeweled neck. Her costume held her upper body in a tight embrace, only to drop in a long skirt around her.

"Her song is about to start." Raoul whispered. "You don't want to miss it."

He didn't took his eyes away from the stage, but he felt the presence seemingly coming from nowhere. He wasn't startled when a gloved hand reached for the extra pair of opera glasses on his lap.

"There you are." He simply said.

As if on cue, Christine's song started.  
Raoul was an admirer of the arts, but he didn't have much knowledge about it. He couldn't tell the notes Christine was singing, and he wouldn't notice if she was singing anything wrong. He could barely understand why she needed to keep rehearsing again and again. But he knew beauty when he saw (or heard) it, and he knew she had it.

Christine was ever form of beauty he knew. Her voice could make any ordinary song touch his heart. Her eyes were the color of the sea in his memories of childhood. Her soft hair smelled like roses and something else he couldn't identify. She was clever and kind and certainly the strongest person he knew. She had a light in her that made even her flaws beautiful, from the scars on her feet from years of ballet to her stubbornness.

He loved her more and more each day.

As the act came to a close, Raoul stood up to applaud, while his companion remained seated, away from the view of the rest of the audience.

"Isn't she perfect?" Raoul asked as he sat back down.

"No." His companion answered. "Being perfect would mean she has no room for improvement. That is certainly not the case."

Raoul shook his head. That man was not one to give much praise, but in the time he had known him, he had learned he had other ways to express his appreciation.

He gave the man a good look. He was dressed all in black, no skin from his shoulders below exposed. He sat up straight, with arms and legs crossed. He wore a handmade white mask, covering half of his face, mirroring the features of the uncovered half. It could be a little strange to look at, but Raoul was already used to it.

Erik would probably not agree with it, but he did have beauty as well. He had the gestures of a noble gentleman, his voice was soft as velvet, and he overall had an elegant and mysterious aura that was very alluring. But Raoul would never be able to word it, and Erik would not listen.

Before he could make any further comment about the performance, Erik was gone.

* * *

Christine changed to more comfortable clothes in her dressing room after the performance. She looked at all the flowers she received from many patrons. She had many fans.

Still, only two mattered for her.

She heard a knock on her door, and hoped it would be one of them. It was Raoul, carrying a bouquet of red roses. She greeted him with a quick kiss on his lips.

“You were stunning tonight!” He said as she closed the door.

Christine showed him one of her brightest smiles, one only him could give her.

“Thank you, Raoul. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He handed her the flowers. “Your favorites.”

Christine was not surprised that he remembered. He always remembered. It didn’t make her any less happy at the gesture.

Raoul was caring and attentive. He would be a fine husband one day. Christine wished he would be her husband, and he had promised once that he would, but part of her still couldn’t see an opera singer married to a viscount. She didn’t want to have to choose between him and the opera. She could be content being his lover, meeting in her dressing room, without formalities. Raoul also seemed content, at least for now.

Besides, harder than convincing her to leave the opera, would be convincing _him_.

As Christine placed the roses in a vase with water, she heard the soft footsteps.

“Hello, Erik.”

“Aren’t you going to the after-party?” He asked.

“You know those parties bore me.” She turned to him as he stood in front of her full body mirror.

“You have a duty with your fans, Miss Daaé.” Erik said, but something in his tone gave it away to Christine that he wasn’t being too serious.

That was a good change. She still remembered how much of a demanding teacher he had once been, always encouraging her to give everything for her career. He helped her go far, but in her opinion she needed some balance.

It also worried Christine how sometimes Erik seemed to simply not know how to have fun. She made it her goal to teach him.

She walked towards him.

“I don’t feel like it today.”

Being barefoot, she needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips. She could feel his sharp intake of breath, something he always did when she kissed him. A mix of surprise and fear, she guessed. Then, as they parted, she could see his lips rising slightly.

“I can’t kiss you properly with this.” Christine said, with a hand on the cheek of the mask.

“I can’t even look at you properly without this.” Erik replied.

They still had a long way to go when it came to it.

Christine parted from him so he could properly greet Raoul. She went back to her roses, and watched from the mirror as they kissed, and then Raoul stood on Erik’s side, resting his head on the tallest man’s shoulder.

“Should we have our own party?” She suggested.

* * *

Erik didn’t like giving them alcohol. They drank as if there was no tomorrow, those young people.

He couldn’t tell them, or they would call him a grumpy old fool again.

He shook his head as he finished pouring the bottle.

Christine sat on Raoul’s lap, and the two laughed at a joke Erik missed. That didn’t seem like a comfortable position. But it had its appeal, he guessed, as he watched them playing with each other’s hair.

That intimacy. That love in their eyes. He sipped his drink, thinking of it.

And really, they looked like a perfect fairy tale picture. Christine with her kindness and grace didn’t lose to any princess. Raoul had the naive bravery of a prince. They were young, and beautiful.

But every fairy tale had its twists.

“Why are sitting so far?” Christine whined, looking at his direction with her bright blue eyes. The drunkenness was clear on her tone.

A few years ago, Erik believed he would die alone, the opera his grave, his only legacy to the world a twisted masterpiece. Then he met Christine, and for the first time since he was a child, he dared to wish for more. Then Raoul came and changed the perfect plot he had in mind. It took time and more than a few mistakes for Erik to realize that those changes didn’t need to be bad.

And now he stood up to join the two drunk fools on a couch that was way too small for the three of them.

Erik stopped a couple of steps from them.

“What’s wrong?” Raoul asked, looking up at him.

Erik hesitated. “Do you two mind if I...?” He gestured vaguely to his mask.

That was an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability for him, but he was slowly teaching himself that he didn’t need to be afraid near Christine and Raoul. In fact, he knew what the answer would be, but years of rejection and loneliness taught him to always take a precaution.

“Of course not.” Christine gently said, unable to smile. Raoul nodded in agreement.

Erik took off his mask, and took his place on the small couch. Christine moved so she now sat on both men’s laps (that couldn’t possibly be comfortable!), and Raoul kissed his hand.

A few years ago, Erik didn’t think himself capable of experiencing loving and being loved. But he was a master of every art, and now he was learning love was too a form of art.


End file.
